


Up on the Ladder

by JacobFlood



Series: Capital Crimes [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, drug crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-03-20 16:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13721664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacobFlood/pseuds/JacobFlood
Summary: There's a new strain of ice on the streets, and the source seems to be somewhere inside Gotham. But Batman's old methods aren't getting him anywhere, and leave him tired at the lack of progress. Years have passed since he first donned the cowl, and still the streets are thick with crime and death and despair. For things to change, really change, he's going to need a new approach.





	1. trapped in hyperspace

‘It’s not working, Alfred.’

He’d come in to close the curtains or some such excuse, but now he stood in the centre of the room looking at the piles of books, journals, printouts, diagrams. I was only glad he couldn’t see how many tabs I had open on my laptop. I was sure he was going to say something judgemental, that he’d been holding himself back these past months as this pursuit of mine had only grown. Instead, he surprised me.

‘It is only natural, sir,’ he said. ‘You feel dispirited at a lack of visible progress.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Or any progress at all. Even if you just watch the news you see crime hasn’t exactly gone down.’

‘The Gotham News Network, alas, is not known for its focus on puppies being rescued from burning buildings.’

‘More’s the pity. But look at it any other way and it’s the same, or worse.’ I pulled up some excel documents and turned the screen towards Alfred, scrolling through the data I’d compiled. ‘Crime stats, unemployment, underemployment, homelessness, corruption, the wealth disparity, nothing’s changing.’

‘The Wayne Foundation continues to do good work,’ said Alfred. ‘I will schedule a meeting of the board, if you wish to do more.’

‘That’s not what I—actually, yes, do that, thank you. But you’re right. It is dispiriting. We’ve been doing this for more years than I’d care to count, and every night I go out and Gotham’s the same. Drug-runners and muggers and gangs. Whatever I’m doing, it’s not making an impact.’

‘There are a lot of people alive today because of you, Master Bruce.’

I waved a hand. ‘I know that. I know.’

‘It is no small matter,’ said Alfred, his tone hardening. ‘I have not been keeping count, but rest assured that if I had been, the number would be enough to put even Mr. Kent to shame.’

I looked up at him, the tension going from my face.

‘Thank you, Alfred,’ I said. ‘I do remember.’

‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Be sure that you do.’

‘Hey, they built me a statue didn’t they?’

Alfred straightened. ‘And you know I felt what the Penguin did to it was in exceedingly bad taste.’

I restrained a smile. My gaze returned to my compiled statistics, still bright and clear on the screen. ‘But the more I stare at all of this’—I gestured at the cluttered room—‘the more I learn, the more I get the feeling I ought to be doing something different. I feel like I’m stuck. Spinning my wheels.’

Alfred closed the curtains. Night had fallen long ago, and it was past time for me to head out. Alfred absently leafed through a first edition of _A People’s History of the United States._ I tried, without much success, to close some of my tabs. My folders of well-organised bookmarks were becoming decidedly less well-organised as they overflowed with subfolders and topics that screamed out to be connected to one another. I asked Alfred if there were any messages.

‘Mr Walton has his party tomorrow night. I understand he’s celebrating a recent acquisition. You did promise to attend.’

‘The real estate investor? Yes, I suppose I did. I may find some excuse to leave early.’

‘I’m sure you’ll be as inventive as usual, sir.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘Stephanie is still on her tour of Europe. She has sent us some… I believe they are called selfies.’

I smiled and found the message. Stephanie was in Prague today, it seemed, balancing herself rather precariously on a fencepost in front of the most gothic-looking pub I’d ever seen. Frankly, the angle and quality of the photo was impressive, given her obvious inebriation.

‘We could use her here,’ I said. ‘But that will always be true. Let her have her fun. I’m sure she will anyway. Anything from Dick?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ said Alfred. He quickly added that, ‘There are also news reports of a new strain of methamphetamine in Gotham. Nothing’s been seen coming in or out of the city, however.’

I flicked further through my messages. ‘I saw Vicki’s report the other night. Gordon hasn’t sent me anything. Could it be manufactured within the city?’

‘I believe Commissioner Gordon’s men keep a close watch on that sort of thing, but it’s possible.’

I grunted. ‘Drug labs are small these days. Could even be mobile. Kids watching too much _Breaking Bad_ again.’ I flipped my laptop closed and stood up. ‘Vicki’s report was from down in the Bowery. Might as well start at the bottom.’

‘Indeed, sir.’

* * *

 

I suited up and headed out. Despite what I’d said to Alfred being true, despite being stuck in useless routines, I still got the same thrill every time I spread my cape and looked out over Gotham. The city sprawling out before me in all its chaotic glory. Millions of people, working and sleeping and partying together. Modern towers squashed against gothic spires, the elevated train winding between it all. I’d seen other cities, more than I could count. Clark had his Metropolis, and Dick had his fascination with Blüdhaven, but Gotham was the only place for me. Always had been, and I could never see a future, even in all the strangest ones I’d been envisioning lately, where that wasn’t still the case.

It was nearly midnight by the time I was crouched on a rooftop corner, watching the people below. I could have spent the whole night doing that, seeing the patterns, the raised voices as people came together and broke apart. But there was always the job.

The small-time dealers were predictable. They’d keep using the same back alleys until you built them over with more apartments. Even then they’d probably break through a window and do their deals from some corner of the carpark, doing lines off the hoods of other people’s cars. I never knew any names, but the amount of foot traffic here ensured that some action was inevitable.

All of which meant my search didn’t take very long. I watched a furtive, darting, beanie-clad dealer approach a surprisingly still junkie, who wore a coat that would have been expensive and stylish, once. Even the mightiest fall, I thought, and I descended on them.

The dealer yelped, tripped backwards, and fell into some trashbags. The junkie stared at me open-mouthed. Their drool dripped onto the ground. I told them to get lost. It took a while for the command to connect through to their brain and translate into action, but when it did, they scrambled away, almost on all fours.

I gestured at the dealer and he rose, wiping himself down without any visible effect, keeping an eye on me the whole time. He was clean-shaven and he was wearing a tie with a polo shirt, visible now as his coat flapped open. Somewhere inside me, noted fashionable socialite Bruce Wayne rolled his eyes. If it hadn’t been for him falling in the trash, I would’ve had a harder time picturing him in this alley.

I got him to empty his pockets and he did. I dropped everything that wasn’t the ice—the regular trio of wallet, phone, and keys—to the ground and asked him where the drugs came from. He stammered a few times, then said Burnley. He gave me an address, an apartment number, but not the supplier’s name. Just a middleman anyway, he said.

When I raised my arm to grapple away, he flinched and fell back into the trash again. Dick would’ve laughed at that, I thought, as I shot upwards. Once atop the roofs again, doubts assailed me. I should have roughed him up, I should have left him hanging upside-down for the cops. But what would that have done, in the long run? I was thinking too small, too much inside the moment.

Hopefully my reputation was secure enough that I could get away without violence for one night, anyway. I got a few rooftops away, found a secure gargoyle under a neon sign, and examined the ice. Nothing different about it to the naked eye, but Vicki’s news report had talked about it being cut with something unknown, giving a greater high but bringing its users crashing back down with such violence that a lot of them weren’t surviving. I put a call through to Oracle.

‘Did I wake you?’

‘Of course not,’ she said.

‘I’m looking into this new strain of ice. Have you heard anything I should know?’

I heard her fingers tapping. ‘Nasty stuff. High mortality rate. Oh. Very high mortality rate. Doctors are petitioning the cops, and the mayor, and… well, pretty much everyone, to do something before it spreads any further. Wards are swamped. If it doesn’t kill you, you get violent. Medical staff are getting injured.’

‘I heard it’s cut with something.’

‘Yeah. Can’t find out what, though. Tests aren’t coming up with much. Hmm.’

‘What?’

‘Dad hasn’t said anything about any big busts lately… so either they’re being sneakier than usual in their shipments, or it’s being manufactured within the city.’

‘I’ve a hunch it’s the latter,’ I said.

‘Oh, well, a hunch,’ said Oracle. ‘Excuse me while I unplug everything I own. Actually,’ she added, without pausing for me to respond in sarcastic kind, ‘this kind of thing, there’ll always be a certain amount of… street-level knowledge, offline, which I can’t get to.’

‘That’s why we’re a team. Not that there’s much of it here these days.’

‘Well,’ she said. ‘You never visit any of them, either.’

‘There’s too much to do here,’ I said quickly.

‘And that’s exactly what Dick and Tim and Cass and Steph would say. And it’s true, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make time.’ She considered for a moment. ‘I suppose Dick is doing that undercover thing.’

‘He’s what? He told you that?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Hmm.’

‘You okay?’ asked Oracle. ‘You do seem a little off tonight.’

This time it was my turn to take a moment to consider. ‘I let a dealer go. I took his supply,’ I added hurriedly, ‘but I didn’t touch him.’ I waited.

‘Hmm,’ she said, and I couldn’t tell whether she was surprised or not. ‘Time was you would’ve dragged him to Blackgate yourself. And he’d have noticeably less teeth by the time he got there.’

I winced. ‘Times have changed,’ I said.

‘Maybe punching drug dealers in the face isn’t doing the world a whole lot of good. You read those articles I sent you?’

‘I did.’ A series of reports on business links to organised crime, out on the west coast. A series that had led to the downfall of several powerful people and sent the stock prices of multiple companies heading for a crash. ‘Nobody’s doing that kind of reporting here.’

‘They’re too scared,’ she said, her voice gaining a fervent tone. ‘Most businesses here have links to some crime lord or another, but our crime lords are psychotic. Penguin’s gangs all report back to him even when he is in prison, which usually isn’t for very long. Twoface’s thugs are getting more and more violent. I see their shills online. Sometimes set up bots to argue with them. But that’s just for fun. Speak out of line, seriously make yourself a threat, and you end up disappeared. I’m surprised Vicki Vale’s still running around, even with her soft touch.’

‘She’s got protection,’ I said, unable to stop myself grinning.

‘Oh, get that look off your face,’ said Oracle.

‘Still,’ I said, the grin vanishing, ‘there’s a way in here. The street level, a way we’re familiar with. This isn’t our first drug bust. This one just has a different twist to it. We do it the same way, more or less. Follow the links as far as they go.’

‘Alright. Where do you want to start?’

* * *

 

When I grappled up to the roof of the GCPD building, Gordon was waiting for me. He leaned against the unlit bat-signal, chewing his nicotine gum, his hands deep in his pockets. He could have passed for several years younger than he was, if it wasn’t for the tiredness, constantly etched onto his face.

‘Late night,’ I said.

‘Early by your standards,’ he said.

I tossed him the bag of ice and he turned it over in his hands. ‘The new strain? Nasty stuff. Big high, big risk of fatality. I’ve had the head of the medical association in my office just this evening. They can’t handle it and we can’t find where it comes from. We’ve cracked down on searches, at the bridges and the docks, but still nothing.’

‘I think it’s manufactured here.’

Gordon grunted. ‘That’s what I thought. Try telling that to my colleagues. Can’t see past their desks. It’s been a damned nuisance getting the resources to investigate. The techs tell me that usage concentrates around Burnley, but we can’t narrow it down any further than that.’

‘That’s what I’ve been hearing. Anybody we know involved?’

Gordon sighed. ‘Not as far we know. Black Mask, Two-Face, and Penguin are all out there, somewhere.’ He walked over to the edge of the rooftop and looked out at the city.

‘We’ll get them. We always do.’ He was silent, so I added, ‘Something troubling you?’

He shook his head. ‘The force is… getting worse. Or maybe it was always this bad and I just didn’t notice. I caught one of my senior officers taking bribes last week. Didn’t get a whole lot of help taking him down, either.’ He paused. ‘I think someone’s gunning for my job.’

‘You’ve been at it a long time,’ I said.

Gordon laughed. ‘I’ll retire when you do.’

I grinned at him. ‘Alright then.’

Gordon’s good humour evaporated. ‘These new cops, I don’t know. They care more about numbers than people. They go out and it’s like they want things to get violent, so they can put a notch in their belt. I don’t understand them.’ He grip on the roof edge tightened. ‘Anarky’s followers posted a video of two of my men beating a black suspect. Calling him… all kinds of names. One of them was a detective, for god’s sake. Years of experience. I put him on suspension, internal investigation, the works, but you should’ve seen the looks the others gave me. Like I was hanging him out to dry.’

‘I thought I put Anarky away.’

‘Someone else has the title now. Haven’t been able to trace who.’

‘I was surprised there was anyone behind the mask at all.’

‘Maybe they get together on weekends and have arts-and-crafts parties. Embroider this right here, use this alias to dismantle the state.’ He shook his head. ‘Kids.’

‘They care, don’t they?’ I could feel something of Gordon’s daughter in my tone.

‘They’re making my life hell, is what they’re doing.’

I flung out my cape and stepped up onto the ledge. I looked at the lights above and below. Always so much noise and chaos. Always something to fix. The trail of the drugs came first, I thought. Maybe I could get the Foundation to shift funds into rehab centres, into frontline emergency rooms, into clean using rooms.

‘Get some sleep, Jim,’ I said. ‘I’ll look into it.’

‘Into what?’

‘All of it.’


	2. give me an answer

I didn’t need to be the world’s greatest detective to work out where I needed to go: every sign pointed to Burnley. I headed in that direction, rooftop to rooftop, and updated Oracle on what her father had told me. Nothing she didn’t already know, I was sure, but it was more for the acts of talking and listening than anything else.

‘How long have we been doing this?’ she asked, after a pause.

‘Too long,’ I said without thinking. There was another pause while we both processed that answer.

‘Maybe Bruce Wayne could join a boxing club. Get his violent urges out in daylight hours.’

‘It’s an idea. But it would burn me out. I need to be fresh, for this.’

‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry there’s nobody to come in with you.’

I wanted to say that I didn’t need help, hadn’t ever needed help. Which wasn’t true, hadn’t ever been true. Knowledge gained the hard way, over and over again. But the urge, that flinching away from any offer of assistance, still held strong in my chest, it seemed. I spat it away, this time, and tried for a different phrasing. Something that wouldn’t restart one of our old arguments, at least.

‘This is small,’ was what I came up with. ‘I can manage.’

‘Nevertheless,’ said Oracle.

She paused as I grappled between two buildings, the wind rushing past me. I wished momentarily for a mask that covered less of my face, so I could feel more of the night air on my skin. Probably too late in my career for a redesign.

‘It’s a shame Kate Kane more or less retired,’ added Oracle.

‘You still keep in touch.’

‘She messages me occasionally. Wants to know how things are going.’

‘Is she actually retired?’ I asked.

Oracle was silent for a little too long.

‘Ah,’ I said.

‘No, it’s not that—’

‘It’s fine,’ I said, though I knew my tone was too harsh for that to be convincing. ‘I wouldn’t want to work with me either.’

They’d all left, eventually. I’d trained most of them, after all. Trained them so that they could work on their own—more specifically, so that they could work without me. And all the while tried not to think about what would happen when they left.

With Kate Kane it had been different. We’d learned from each other, of course, but I hadn’t brought her up from next-to-nothing. I hadn’t seen her grow. We were just two adults who happened to be into crimefighting. After we’d gotten over the awkwardness generated by the initial media speculation—Batman and Batwoman must be a couple, right?—we’d worked well together. Or so I’d thought. Family or not, everybody leaves eventually.

‘You know…’ said Oracle, ‘if you wanted to talk about that…’

‘About what? My pathological need to keep everybody at arm’s length, even those I care about? Especially those I care about? You’re not my therapist.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘No. Fair enough. I could recommend someone, though. You could go as either of your names.’

I laughed. ‘Can you imagine me, sitting in a waiting room, reading magazines?’ I leapt a gap between two buildings and landed with a roll. I came upright and added, ‘Capes aren’t great for sitting down, anyway.’

‘That is one of your worst excuses yet,’ said Oracle.

‘Anyway, we’re here.’

‘…no, no we’re not, still one building over. You’re avoiding the topic.’

‘But the apartment will face this side.’ I crouched on the ledge and asked Oracle to pull up the building schematics. It might not have been my night for good excuses, but nobody could avoid a topic like me. I surveyed the wall of the apartment block, watching for movement at the windows, particularly those where there were no lights on. The one I wanted was on the tenth floor, the third window across. I ran a few scans. ‘No heat signatures. Looks like nobody’s home.’

Oracle was silent. I secured my grapple and lowered myself down the wall until I reached the correct window. I forced the lock and swung inside. I closed the window behind me—it wouldn’t hold up to any close inspection, but it’d fool a casual observer.

The apartment was dark. The only light came from the blinking of various electronic devices: a red flashing light on a DVD player, the green digital time on the microwave. I crouched silently by the window and waited for my eyes to adjust.

I’d expected a lab, but was instead met with just a regular room. Cheap furniture and appliances, and a tiny corner kitchen that was so Spartan it looked like it had never been used. No oven, just a microwave. It could have passed for a motel. I trod down to the bedroom and found the story was much the same there. Someone slept in this room, but that was all. I’d be surprised if they spent any other time there. But the dealer had said this was the place, so there had to be something.

A more thorough search turned up traces of what seemed to be the same ice I’d gotten off the dealer, but nothing in any real quantity. It looked and felt like a dead end, and I said so to Oracle.

‘There a computer?’ she asked.

There was, a laptop on the kitchen bench. I flipped it open.

‘Password,’ I said.

Oracle made a dismissive noise. ‘Bring it round later, I’ll find whatever there is to be found.’

‘In the morning.’ I looked around the apartment again, hoping that something unseen would jump out at me, connect all the dots and make the whole picture clear. Still, I’d punched through thicker walls before. ‘I can’t wait here all night in the hope this guy will show up. What’s his name? Can you get him back here?’

 ‘Hang on a moment.’ I heard her tapping again. ‘Getting the name on the apartment, and… his mobile number. Adrian Lime. Drug dealers ought to be more careful, really. Calling him now.’

‘What?’

‘Just hang on.’ There was a pause, then I heard the muffled greeting from that other line. ‘Yes hello Adrian it’s Lily from down the hall I was coming up from getting my mail when I saw a light under your door and I was sure I saw you going out so I thought that maybe…’

There were some incoherent exclamations from Adrian.

‘Do you want me to call the police?’ asked Oracle, all vapid wonder.

‘No!’ exclaimed Adrian. ‘I’ll be right there. Don’t do anything.’ He hung up.

‘Well?’ said Oracle.

‘Nicely done,’ I admitted.

‘His phone puts him… less than twenty minutes away.’

‘Hmm. He’ll be suspicious that the door is intact.’

‘I’m sure you can fix that with your trademark subtlety,’ she said.

I ignored that and went over to the front door. I picked the lock and slipped out into the dim and silent hallway. There was light coming from under a door most of the way down the hall, but the rest were dark. I doubted anyone in the building would have actually done for Adrian Lime what “Lily” had done for him. So I wasn’t too worried about making some noise.

I closed the door, then kicked it inward and went back inside.

‘Wonderful,’ said Oracle. ‘Does that satisfy your violent desires for tonight?’

‘It might,’ I said, though I found there certainly wasn’t any violence in my tone.

I found a dark corner along from the door so he wouldn’t see me when he came in, and I waited. I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing. Oracle was silent, though I heard the occasional tapping of her fingers against her keyboard, as ever.

She told me when Adrian had reached the building. I opened my eyes and let my muscles relax and tighten and relax, ready to move at the slightest warning. I heard his footsteps coming up the hall. I heard his curses as he saw the busted door. I saw him step gingerly into the apartment with his hand going for the light switch.

I grabbed him before he reached it. He got out a startled breath before I had him airborne and up against the wall. He knew who I was straight away. They always do.

‘There are no drugs here. Why?’

Best not to get complicated when interrogating drug dealers. The shock tends to dampen their ability to deal with little things like nuance and complexity. I relaxed my hold so he had room enough to breathe and speak.

‘God, I thought, this is… I mean, no, this is just a waypoint. We don’t, there’s not, there’s never anything here for more than an… an hour or two. Or so. We’re quick, usually. We’ve gotten quicker.’

I gave him a look which made it clear he was to keep going. Hopefully without the babble.

‘The drugs come in, in a van, a white van, and we… we put them into packages and… and send them out to dealers. I give them, the driver, the driver I mean, I give them the money from the takings and… and they go.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know! I’d tell you if I did. It’s an unmarked van, I don’t even know his name. He drops off the drugs and he takes the money. Doesn’t help us, just watches us… us sort it out. It’s a lot of money. The operation’s big, bigger than any I heard of.’

‘Someone’s pulling the strings,’ I said. ‘Who?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t know! I heard a rumour about Black Mask, but I don’t know, it could be bullshit.’

‘Hmm. When’s the next van due?’

‘At… at eleven. In the morning. Tomorrow, or… or today, I guess it is now. Yeah, today.’

I let Adrian down to the floor, then knocked him unconscious.

‘Just a little violence,’ I said. I could almost hear Oracle rolling her eyes. I looked around the apartment for a moment, then took Adrian with me out the window. Which was cumbersome—lack of consciousness has a way of making people heavier—but it wasn’t my first time lugging someone out a window ten floors up.

I went up and over the roofs with Adrian, then left him trussed up a few streets over. I called it in to Gordon, telling him not to look any further into this, to leave the apartment alone, that it might jeopardise an ongoing operation. He agreed, but told me to be careful.

‘What operation?’ asked Oracle, who surprisingly hadn’t made fun of me as I was heaving Adrian Lime around. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘We follow the trail back.’

‘The van comes at eleven am.’ She paused. ‘Batman doesn’t go out during the day.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But Bruce Wayne could do with a day out.’


	3. i've been wasting my time

I got some sleep. Enough, anyway. Alfred wasn’t around when I got up near nine, but he’d left breakfast for me. I ate while I flipped through the news and my messages. Nothing that needed my immediate attention. And no obligations until that party tonight, the one Alfred had mentioned.

Wayne Manor was too silent. I missed the days of chaotic company more than I’d realised. A weird little family we’d been, but a family nonetheless. I sent a few messages out, to Tim and Cass, plus another no doubt fruitless one to Dick. You can only spend so much time standing on rooftops in the pitch of night with the voices in your head before you start to long for company that’s a little more concrete.

To that end, I pinged Barbara to see if she was awake yet. She was, of course—she slept even less than me. Although there was no doubt she could hack Adrian Lime’s laptop remotely, if I gave her access, it’d be more secure and more pleasant, if I dropped it round. I got dressed in jeans and sneakers and a sport jacket, and pulled my incognito car out of the garage: a small black hatchback. About as nondescript as I could find.

I drove into Gotham, down to Barbara’s apartment. I took the elevator up and got a yelled ‘Come in!’ when I knocked.

‘I could have been anyone,’ I said, finding her in front of multi-screen set-up, as usual. She gestured at one of her screens, which showed footage of the hallway outside her apartment.

‘But you weren’t,’ she said. She swivelled her chair around. ‘Got that laptop?’

I handed it over and she flipped it open, plugging it into various things and tapping the keyboard with barely restrained glee. I couldn’t begin to understand all of what she was doing. Every explanation needed five other explanations and I always threw in the towel. I knew the basics. For more, I had her.

Her eyes flicked up at me. ‘One of the common people today?’

‘Finely tailored suits are a little conspicuous when you’re trailing drug dealers.’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Remember that Bruce Wayne is a little less invincible than Batman.’

I gestured at Adrian Lime’s laptop. ‘How long is that going to take you?’

‘You run along. I’ll let you know.’

I lingered, leaning for a bit on the doorframe, then standing straight. Barbara looked at me for a second, then went back to her work. After a minute, she sighed and gestured to an armchair. I took it.

‘I was thinking,’ I said, ‘about what Adrian said.’

Barbara sighed again. ‘Which part?’

‘About Black Mask.’

‘Is he even at large?’ She typed a couple of things very quickly. ‘Oh, yes. But we haven’t seen him for months. No records here, either. Keeping to himself.’

‘He’s a businessman,’ I said. ‘Maybe he’s taking a more hands-off approach this time.’

‘Arrest these people enough and they start to get clever,’ she said. ‘Curse the criminal mind!’ She shook her fist at the sky and grinned at me, then shrugged. ‘Well, I suppose they can’t all be Solomon Grundy.’

‘And we can all be thankful for that,’ I said. ‘Still, it’s different. More clinical, maybe.’

‘The world’s changing,’ said Barbara.

‘That’s always true,’ I said automatically. ‘It just seems more true now because we’re here, living in it.’

‘Still changing. And we need to change with it.’

‘Yes.’ I stood up and straightened my jacket. ‘Bruce Wayne hasn’t been pulling his weight. Time for that to change.’

‘Glad to hear it. Now get out of here and let me do some work.’

* * *

 

I drove over to Burnley and parked a couple of blocks down from Adrian Lime’s building. I was early, so I took my time, got some coffee, and took a roundabout route, scouting various vantage points. Eventually I found a concrete bollard, diagonally opposite the building’s entrance, set up to stop cars using a back alley as a shortcut. I heaved myself up on it and pretended I was just another worker on break, scrolling absently on my phone as I finished my coffee.

The van showed up at exactly eleven. White and unmarked, just as Lime had said. A man in a suit but no tie got out, open the back doors and hauled a sports bag over his shoulder. I caught a brief glimpse of other bags and boxes stacked high in the van. The man headed upstairs. I knew I had only minutes before he discovered Lime’s absence—and the presumably unfixed door—so I pocketed my phone, binned my coffee cup, and headed across the street.

The trick to breaking and entering is to act like you’re meant to be there. The side door of the van soon yielded to me and I swung myself inside, closing the door behind me. I found a crouched position between several wooden crates that would render me invisible from the back door, or from the driver’s seat. I waited.

Soon enough, the man came back, cursing under his breath. He hurled the bag into the front passenger seat and started the engine. I kept myself braced as the van began to move, the driver’s movements betraying frustration, though to my best judgement he never exceeded the speed limit. Barbara might have been right about these criminals getting smarter.

I kept a map of Gotham in my head as we drove on and, as we slowed, risked a glance out the front window to confirm my thoughts. The van was pulling into the service entrance of The Montana, a posh apartment complex miles away from where I’d expected. No place for a drug lab here—the driver must be reporting to Black Mask or some other intermediary, using a room upstairs.

The van parked and the man got out. I waited what I thought an appropriate amount of time, then slipped from my hiding place. None of the other containers in the van provided any illumination on the case. All the ones I examined appeared to be part of legitimate deliveries, most small parts for the construction industry: nails, screws, brackets, and other fittings.

After a careful survey out the windscreen and back windows revealing nobody about, I slid open the side door. Immediately I heard a voice.

‘Shit, did you hear that? Someone’s snooping around in the van.’

Normally, this would have been the point where I dispensed with subtlety and moved onto force. But Bruce Wayne couldn’t be seen tussling with thugs in a carpark. I swung back against the side of the van, out of sight, and waited for the footsteps to draw near.

Hopefully moving faster enough that he couldn’t get a good look at my face, I hauled the driver inside and knocked him out. I slid the side door closed and pulled the keys from the driver’s pocket. Before anybody else could get purchase on the van, I had it moving, my head angled down as I sped past angry thugs, yelling at each other to call in everyone. Shit, I thought.

I tried to put as much as distance between The Montana and myself as I could. No doubt there’d be some kind of tracker on the vehicle. I found a baseball cap in the glovebox and pulled it tight over my hair. I put a call through to Alfred.

‘Alfred, I need my suit dropped off.’

‘At this hour, sir? Very well.’

‘Sending you the coordinates now.’

‘Are you in the middle of a car chase, Master Wayne?’ he asked.

I checked my mirrors and saw several dark cars converging, heading after me.

‘So it would seem,’ I said. ‘Double-time, Alfred.’ I rang off. In order to give Alfred enough time, I needed to lead the thugs on a roundabout route. The cars were gaining distance, but nobody knew Gotham’s streets like me.

I took them on a long loop down to the docks, a route that would have done any tour guide proud. At one point, with Arkham Asylum in sight, one of my pursuers drew level with me, and I came within a couple of inches of dropping into the river making sure he couldn’t see my face.

When I was almost there, the thug in the back woke up. He groaned, got up and fell over again, then braced himself more securely. I looked at him in the mirror, pretty sure that all he could see of me was the back of my head.

‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘Who are you working for?’

‘Penguin,’ I said, angling my voice lower.

‘Bullshit! We got an agreement, when the boss hears about this he’ll—’

Whatever the boss would do was sadly lost, as I took us hard around a corner and the thug was slammed against the side of the van. By the time he was upright, I’d screeched to a halt and bailed out the passenger door, taking the sports bag full of drugs with me.

I vanished between the pallets and shipping containers and heavy machinery, taking turns that to any observer must have seemed random. But Alfred had pulled up his car in the right place, and I flung myself into the backseat and performed a change I’d become expert in over the years. Inbetween I assured Alfred that everything was under control, and gave him instructions on disposing of the drugs in the bag. When I exited the vehicle a scant minute later, Alfred already making himself scarce, I was Batman.

As always, I went up.

It didn’t seem fair to them, really. Most of what they got up to in the daytime, they could get away with. All this black doesn’t work nearly as well in the sun. But the sky was grey and it was dim between the containers. Enough for my usual atmosphere to take effect.

The goons poured into the docks, looking for some small-timer who’d stolen their van and a bag of drugs. Instead, they found me. I was restrained, relatively. Most of them were unconscious before they twigged who they were dealing with. There was surprise from them then, at me breaking the rules. Like I was some kind of vampire afraid of the light.

I waited until there was only one left. He fled. They usually do. I tagged him silently and watched the blip move on my screen. But instead of heading back to The Montana, he drove out of the city. Over the bridge and further, until he stopped at what my map told me was a cheap motel called Riverrush View. I called in the jet and got it to drop me on the roof.

Without the cover of darkness, there was no way my approach went undetected. So I went into the motel room without subtlety. Smoke and blazes of light and sound. My fists meeting flesh. There was someone there I recognised. Roman Sionis. Black Mask.

When the smoke cleared, we were the only ones left standing. He raised his hands and grinned at me.

‘Isn’t this a little past your bedtime?’ he said.

‘Where’s the lab, Sionis?’

‘Like I’m going to tell you that.’

‘You’re going up the river anyway,’ I said. ‘Might as well make it easier on yourself. New DA’s got some good lines about rehabilitation.’

Sionis shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t last a day in prison if I told you anything.’

That got my eyebrows to rise. Black Mask, afraid of consequences? He was a businessman, first and foremost. There was his professional reputation to consider, of course. But fear? That was new. There were all kinds of gangs at work in Blackgate Prison, but a good fist of them were under Sionis’ command anyway. There was some other force at work. Someone above and beyond.

‘You’re a hired thug,’ I said. ‘Who hired you?’

‘Please,’ said Sionis. He dusted something off his lapels. ‘I’m a paid contractor.’

‘Isn’t that a little beneath you?’

He shrugged. ‘Times have changed. People don’t want to do their own dirty work anymore. I’m surprised you still do yours.’

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘I know you’re practically nocturnal, but owl impressions is taking it a bit far, isn’t it?’

I took a quick step towards him and he flinched back, tripping over one of the prone bodies of his goons and landing on his behind. His smile vanished.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m not telling you who I work for. My boys’ll keep the operation running whether I’m in prison or not. And so my paychecks will be waiting for me when I get out.’

‘Not now you’ve told me that they won’t,’ I said.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Even if you take down every one of my men, they’ll just hire someone else. That poser Dent has been trying to muscle in. When he’s not busy complaining about those new foreign gangs taking honest criminal jobs. Even then, there’s other work in town. All you’re doing is delaying me.’

He drifted off after that into some more night-life based taunts. I cuffed him and called in the GCPD. The dispatcher was pretty surprised to get a call from me while the sun was up, but said they were on their way.

Back in the jet and heading home, I got a call from Oracle.

‘Alfred’s told me to remind you about your party tonight.’

‘He’s contracting out now too?’ I said.

‘What?’

‘I’ll explain later. Liam Walton. Real-estate tycoon. I do remember. Ye of little faith.’

‘Sure,’ she said. ‘You know where it is, I’m guessing?’

I was silent for a moment. ‘That, I admit, has slipped my memory.’

‘No, but, you were there today. Came up on your tracker. The Montana.’

Well. No time off, it seemed. If there was trouble centred on The Montana, Liam Walton would be at the centre of it. He owned the place, after all, living up in the penthouse. Batman crashing through one of his floor-to-ceiling windows with lovely views of the river might be a tad noticeable. Invited guest Bruce Wayne, however, could easily slip away from the bustle of the party for some investigating.

Interesting, I thought. There was some serious potential in this idea of putting both halves of your identity onto a single case. It was an altogether different thrill, that was certain. Hopefully it would also bring double the chances of success.


End file.
